You're a Doll
by PrimaDina
Summary: Oneshot; Atlanta does her laundry and receives unexpected compliments. Atlanta & Neil friendship.


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A/N: I've actually had this one for a while now. Just thought I'd post it. Things are a bit slow these days, haha. I actually really like the idea that Neil & Atlanta have a deeper friendship than what we'd see on the show and such. SO this was born. Enjoy! R&R!

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Atlanta bounced down the basement stairs with her laundry in hand. She waved as she passed Odie's room and made a mental note to buy him a lamp for his birthday. The boy needed some sunlight.

The laundry room door was slightly ajar, and when she opened it she saw why. Neil was reclining on top of the washer and dryer, leaning back on his hand and examining his nails.

The red head set her whites on a freezer. "Practicing your poses?" she questioned.

Neil, who hadn't seemed to notice she'd walked in the room replied "I don't need it, babe," without looking up.

"Of course not," she semi-mumbled as she turned her hamper upside down. There was no venom in her voice, but she didn't feel like gloating the boy on today. Neil watched her sweaty clothes tumble out but his eyes lit up at one particular item.

"You wore it!" he exclaimed, sitting up onto only the dryer. Which was just as well, since Atlanta needed the washer anyway.

She looked at the hoodie he'd pointed at. It was white, spaghetti sauce stained, and Abercrombie. The enemy.

"Yeah, I did," she looked up from her pile with a smile that seemed to please Neil enough. "Thanks again for it."

He basked in the gratitude. "It was nothing. I'd just finished a shoot for them and they said I could grab a bit of swag, and there was this _super _sweet little twill short and I knew I just _needed _it," he explained, with hand gestures much too girly for Atlanta to compute.

"But then I saw that little number and I though of you, babe. Doesn't it just fit you like a glove?"

Babe. Atlanta got it. Theresa got it. Odie got it. It was Neil's selective nickname for his 'favourites' as he liked to call them. The first couple times he'd used it she'd felt a little odd, but after a year of saving the world and a year of hearing "Watch out, babe! That thing has got some horns goin' _on_!" she'd finally began to accept it.

"It does fit pretty well," she hated to admit. When she'd woken up that past Friday at 8:13 and started her mad rush to be ready on time, she had a decision on her hands. Wear the brand new Abercrombie hoodie or last night's sweaty T-shirt from training.

The decision was no easy one.

But she didn't die. No one said a word about it when she dove through the truck's window moments before it was about to pull away. Except for the part about her jumping through the window. She got some beef about that.

"I got a couple compliments, actually," she confessed to the handsome teen jiggling a bit on top of the dryer.

"That's what I like to hear. Atlanta bustin' out some expensive mall brand clothes and the world taking notice," he enthused.

She measured out her soap. He always stressed the 'lan' in her name. It was cute, in a five-year-old brother sort of way. "You're making me regret it," she laughed. "Expensive mall brand? Oy."

"It's the truth," he said breezily. "Nowhere near designer." Atlanta was pretty sure that if he could flip his hair over his shoulders, he would have.

She started clicking turning and pulling the knobs. Was it hot or cold for whites?

"You're really, really pretty you know."

Hot. It had to be hot. So your red cheeks stood out against the white all around you, naturally.

She looked up from her load, slightly flabbergasted. "Quoi?" She managed to revert back to her native tongue as well as close the lid of the washer, just as Neil went to recline back on top of it.

"Don't worry," he stated, deadpan. "I'm not in love with you."

"I didn't think you were…" she laughed lightly, but half heartedly. "That's just…"

"…Something you don't get nearly enough, I'm sure. Even _he _doesn't have the balls to tell you once in a while."

"Who -"

"Listen, regardless of what anyone doesn't have the balls for, just remember you're a doll, ok? People tell me that all the time. And look how bloody happy I turned out!" he smiled wickedly.

"You're a weird guy Neil," she picked up her hamper. Her face had cooled and the awkward air had managed to lift. Damn being a redhead. Simple compliments sending her cheeks to the same shade as her hair. Just great.

"I'm not weird, I just know all about the human psyche," he pointed to his brain. "I met the lady. The husband's let himself go a bit, but I'll stop myself before I ramble. Just don't forget ok? Wear a cutesy little hoodie once in a while. Borrow my shampoo. Have a little fun. Get down tonight, you know?"

"Get down tonight. Got it," she walked towards the door, but turned back. "Neil?"

He looked up from where he'd started unloading his dry clothes.

"Thanks," she said as she stepped into the hall.

Atlanta had made it just outside Odie's room when she (and most of the other inhabitants of the house) heard "You're a doll, Atlanta!" sing-song throughout the house. Odie even minimized the game he'd been playing for that one.

"Hey," she said, deadpan. "It's true." She slipped into the small boy's room, dropping her hamper on his bed.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a doll, Odie?"

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Hope you liked that one... just had to throw Odie in there. I decided to write it after doing the laundry one day. Who would have thought?


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